Karen Chance

“Pemphredo had been about to crawl off, but at that she came back and settled down, brushing off her filthy shorts. Deino crossed her legs. Enyo stopped picking at her fingernails with a knife and put it politely away. I kind of felt like I should be serving tea.”

“They don’t eat that much.” “In comparison to what? Starving marines?”

“—but they’re minor-level functionaries. They can’t do that kind of shit. And a demon can’t possess another demon—or a half, for that matter. So two plus two, okay? His other half ain’t Ahhazu, it’s incubus. And there’s only one half human, half incubus ever been recorded—” “Maybe Pritkin’s birth wasn’t recorded.” “Bullshit. You know damn well who we got—” “Don’t say it.” “—next door, and John Pritkin ain’t his—” “I’m warning you.” “—name. It’s motherfucking Mer—” “Say it and spend the rest of your life in the Jurassic,” I hissed.”

“Country is based on folk music, which has been around for centuries—” “So has the plague.”

“Forgive me, Cassie, but Jonas Marsden is hardly an example of well-adjusted behavior!”

“Before I left, I just wanted to say . . . thank you.” It came out a little strangled. I thought about it for a moment. “You’re welcome?” “Do you know what I’m thanking you for?” Damn. I’d hoped he wouldn’t ask that. It couldn’t be for lunch, since we’d never had any. And I guessed we wouldn’t now, what with a possessed fridge and all. “No?” I said, figuring I had a fifty-fifty shot.”

“What the hell was he carrying this shit around for?” the second vamp demanded. “It’s useful in making captures, subduing difficult prisoners.” Pritkin shrugged. “Then . . . this is a weapon.” “Yes.” “But he was going on a date.” Pritkin looked confused.”

“Nobody said anything that time. Or maybe I just wasn’t listening. After all, someone had to keep an eye on the fridge.”

“I thought there was a good chance the fridge was possessed. It was subtle about it, but I had its number. I knew its ways. Oh yes.”

“What others?” I asked, as Jonas began examining Pritkin’s little boxes and tins. “Hm? Oh, the other two gods, of course,” he said absently. “Ah, Nuwara Eliya. Yes, very nice.” “Nuwara Eliya is a god?” I asked, confused. He regarded me strangely.“No. It’s a town in Sri Lanka.” I looked at him. “Where they grow tea. Very good tea, too.” Pritkin put a heavy hand on my shoulder, which was just as well. It probably wouldn’t have looked good to choke the head of the Silver Circle to death right before the coronation. Then again, my reputation was shot to hell anyway....”

“Can you repeat that pickup line for me?” I heard one of the vamps ask. “I want to write it down. Something about the usual?”

“The Lord Protector and his hair got off the elevator.”

“I’d like for you to tell me who you are.” The man blinked. “David Dryden.” I just looked at him. “Your one o’clock?” “My one o’clock what?” “Date,” the third vamp said, grinning. “For what?” I asked, confused. “Well, you know.” The mage looked a little awkward suddenly. “The usual.” “I think we’ve got a contender here, boys,” the brunet said. “Smooth operator,” the second vamp agreed.”

“What?” I said defensively, clutching the mink and my dignity. Since I was barefoot, mostly naked and completely hungover, I was pretty sure I grasped only one of them.”

“Halfway through, I decided that if I survived this, I was going to kill him. It wouldn’t be easy, him being a master vamp and all, but I would find a way.”

“He leaned over and removed the lid, and some really wonderful smells steamed out. But I wasn’t going to get excited, not this time, because it was probably Bambi in shallots or Nemo with fennel or—”

“Poireaux vinaigrette aux grains de caviar.” I did a quick translation. “Leeks and fish eggs in vinegar?” He grinned. “It sounds better in French.” Yeah, but did it taste better?”

“It’s beautiful, dulceață,” he said, his tone awed. “Do you see? Beautiful.” “What is?” “The snow. The night.” His arms tightened. “You.” I eyed him warily. “Thanks?”

“Why is your hair green?” “It’s a fashion statement.” “It’s hideous. And even if it weren’t . . . tinted . . . or whatever you did to it, it still wouldn’t do. We haven’t had a blond Pythia before; it’s simply not what people expect to see. And, frankly, it doesn’t suit you.” “It’s my natural color!” “Then it’s naturally hideous. And this”—he tugged at my curls—“will have to go.” “If you touch me one more time—” I said softly. “I’ll make you an appointment with a hairdresser who understands that we need suave. We need sophisticated. We need—well, someone else, obviously, but—”

“Is there anyone in this apartment who hasn’t seen me naked?” I demanded, grabbing the sheet and the phone. “I genuinely hope so, Cassandra.”

“The result was enough noise to wake the dead, one of whom started hammering on the bathroom door. “Miss Palmer. Are you all right?”

“Round-the-clock security meant that some of them got stuck on the day shift, which was hard on vampires. At least I assumed that was why, after a week or two, they started looking a little peaked.”

“I’m like the master. I like to walk on the wild side.” It took me a moment to realize what he meant. “I am not the wild side,” I told him flatly. “I’m about as far from the wild side as it’s possible to get.”

“You decent?” I pulled the towel up a little higher. “Yes, if my wrinkled toes don’t offend.” Marco’s swarthy head popped around the doorjamb. “Naw, they’re cute.”

“I tossed it on a pile with the coat, my stiff-with-cold jeans and the expensive scrap of silk that had been wedged up my ass for the past half hour.”

“I rotated my eyeball—and, goddamnit, even that hurt—to see the leader of my bodyguards peering at me.”

“I left it with a warmer,” he said drily. Because war mages ate their fried chicken frozen to the ground and they liked it.”

“Look,” I said, trying to reason with him despite extensive experience that this rarely worked. “This isn’t a great time. I have my inauguration—” “Coronation.” “—coming up,”

“I’d been declared—over my loud and sustained protests—Pythia, the chief seer of the supernatural world.”

“I looked up, but had to crane my head back, leaving the features above me wrong-side up. The clear green eyes were the same, and, unfortunately, so was the spiky blond hair. It didn’t look any better from this angle, I decided.”

“My nose was running, I couldn’t see worth shit and my brain was still frozen in abject terror.”

“You love me?"He just looked at me for a moment. And then he reared back his head and laughed, a rich, mellow sound, unreserved and unashamed. " No, not at all. I regularly battle gods for women I dislike!”

“I turned over, and those big hands got to work on my back. I stifled a whimper in the pillow, because Marco's idea of a massage bore no resemblance whatsoever to the relaxing spa variety. There was no lavender oil, no soothing music, no hot towels. Just an all-out assault on cramped muscles, until they cowered in surrender and turned to Jell-O. ”

“Pritkin put a heavy hand on my shoulder, which was just as well. It probably wouldn't have looked good to choke the head of the Silver Circle to death right before the coronation. Then again, my reputation was shot to hell anyway....”

“Oh yes. I was telling you about my research into the old Norse sagas- the mythology of ancient Scandinavia. Have you read them?”“Uh no.”“You’d like them, Cassie.” He waved the hand with the chalk in it. “All sex and violence.”I frowned. “Why would you think that I’d-”

“Mircea leaned over to refill my wineglass, and a section of his bare chest showed under the robe, along with a hint of dusky nipple. It's a good thing I'm too stuffed to move, I thought hazily. I would so have jumped that.”

“The war mages might have been running a full-on offensive, but she'd been right there with them. She'd sent them screaming in terror. She'd imprisoned one like a bug under glass. She'd run one the hell down.Mom, I realized in shock, had been kind of a badass.”

“There was some sort of commotion going on outside, and I decided I’d had enough. I went to the door and stuck my head out. Marco was gasping for breath on the sofa, and two of the guards were bent over a cell phone.“What are you doing?” I demanded.“Trying to record this,” the smart-ass from the shopping trip told me. “Nobody is going to believe us otherwise.”“Well, cut it out. It isn’t funny!”“On what planet?”I glared at him, which did no good,because he simply went back to to tinkering with the phone. So I looked at Marco. “Can’t you do anything with them?”Marco flopped a hand at me, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks, and tried to say something. But all that came out for several moments were asthmatic wheezes. I bent over his prone form, starting to worry about him, and he put a hand on my neck and pulled me down.” It…is…funny,” he gasped.”

“And then Mircea finally let me down, only to get his hands inside the coat and push me against the wall.“I’m dirty,” I protested.He waggled his eyebrows. “Promise?”“Mircea!” I laughed in spite of myself…”

“I narrowed my eyes at it. Ming-de’s little gift, I assumed. “You look better in color,” I snapped.He sent me a sultry look over his shoulder. “Really? Most women think I look better in nothing at all.”

“You know, I've lived a long time," he told me, massaging my calf more firmly now. "And I met a lot of people. But I ain't never met a woman made me want to beat her to death as often as you.”

“This was Dante's. Crazy was what we had for breakfast when we ran out of Corn Flakes”

“I… What are you doing " Mircea had run a hand through his waterfall of hair and now he was sliding those beautifully shaped hands down his chest to glide over his nipples. His torso was hairless and perfectly sculpted with toned muscles and a long waist. He followed the lines of his flat stomach to the low-slung border of his only remaining garment. His fingers lingered there sliding along that insubstantial barrier teasingly drawing my eyes to the line of dark hair that started below his navel and disappeared beneath the black silk. It was startling against the pale perfection of his skin and except for the faint pink of his nipples gave the only color to his upper body. "Doing dulceaţă " he asked innocently. "I am trying my best to seduce you.”

“Let me get this straight. First you decide I'm a demon because of a power I didn't ask for and don't even understand. Then when that falls through you label me a fallen sybil and a ho. Am I missing something or do you just not like me”

“You mean you let him talk to you like that and you aren't even getting any Man what a rip-off.”

“I leaned back in my chair, stretching luxuriantly, delibrately letting my jacket fall open. Predictably, his eyes moved down my body-some things outlast even the change. I grinned and he looked away, a rueful smile twitching at his lips. I finished breakfast in peace.”

“My nerves needed a break, not a reminder of how much trouble we were in. I prowled around, but it didn't help. I still felt like my skin was on too tight.”

“Fresh blood at midnight isn't red. It's a purplish black that easily blends into the shadows.”

“I drank some too-hot coffee and scowled at him, annoyed although I couldn't remember why. The light from the lounge was leaking in, highlighting his spiky blond hair. I decided that must be it. "You really hate my hair, don't you?" he asked, a smile flickering over his lips so fast I might have imagined it."Yeah""Why?"I reached out to touch it, and was surprised as always to find it mostly soft. Just a little stiff in places from whatever product he used on it. It felt weird, imagining Pritkin having anything in his hair but sweat. But he must have; nobody's did that all on its own."It's like...angry hair," I said, trying to pat it down and failing miserably.He caught my wrist. "Most people would say that suits me.""I'm not most people.""I know.”

“I looked up to find a slim blond figure standing in the doorway to the kitchen. For a frozen second, I looked at him and he looked at me, and then I screamed and threw my coffee, which hit him square in the groin.”